


A Not so Honest Conversation

by GeekyRoleplayer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: I was listening to Hozier as I wrote this, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyRoleplayer/pseuds/GeekyRoleplayer
Summary: The anchor flares and Mahvir Lavellan suffers in silence upon the first night of the Exalted Council.





	A Not so Honest Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> When an ongoing roleplay chain allows your Pavellan ship to be happy, and together despite the distance but then Canon insists that angst is needed. 
> 
> This feels very clumsily written but here it is anyway.

The guest wing within the Winter Palace was nothing if not accommodating. 

A fire was already blazing in the hearth when he'd arrived. The Inquisitor found it's soft crackling to be a comfort. It was a familiar noise that never changed, no matter the shift in scenery or the passage of time. His back was turned to the flames as peered out the room's window. He was placed far above the grounds and in the courtyard he watched as nobles and servants alike scurried about. From so far up it was impossible to tell if each ant-sized shape was Orleasian or Fereldan. 

His gaze dragged downwards as his palm began to ache. Having rid of his gloves the moment he entered the room, Mahvir watched as the anchor flared.  
It's magic had begun to inch up his arm, consuming his veins with a sickeningly green glow. The pain of it had started snapping at his sanity a few weeks previous and it was something he refused to admit to anyone. Especially not during the Exalted Council. With everyone worried about the fate of the Inquisition and presence of the Qunari, he did not wish to add to their stresses. It had been such a long time since he had all of his companions together in one place and he did not wish to waste it. 

The time of Mahvir Lavellan was ticking towards it's end and he was too afraid to admit it. 

A sudden knock at his door shook him from his thoughts. 

"Amatus?" Dorian's voice rang out as he poked his head into the room; inviting himself inside when he noticed his partner standing beside the window. "There you are! You  
left the celebration early, the others were getting worried." 

Mahvir accounted for his fifth mental curse of the day. 

Turning from the window he clasped his hands behind his back. "I didn't mean to distract from Ellana and Cullen. It's about time they were married." 

"Absolutely, you should have seen them down there Mahvir. All moon-eyed and in love." The mage shut the door behind him before walking across the room to stand before the other man. He reached out to wrap his arms around the warrior's shoulders, beckoning for him to come closer. "It reminded me of us." 

"Well we did do the whole eloping thing first." Mahvir offers with a small smile. 

"That we did and have I ever told you how torturous it is to be kept away from your husband for so long?" 

"I think I know how it feels." He answers coyly, not shying away as Dorian's lips found his own. 

He sighed into the kiss and allowed himself to become dismantled. His hands wandered from where he kept them hidden and they were now trailing up the mage's back.  
It was a delicious game they played, trying to get the other to come undone beneath their delicate touches or sultry whispers. He should have been better prepared when Dorian's kisses, which left him breathless, deterred. Warm lips trailed from his jaw, to the pulse of his throat, and then to the shell of his ear. A sensation that left him near defenseless, as he was ushered toward the bed in the center of the room. The back of his legs hit it's edge. 

"You've missed me?" Dorian asks in a soft voice. His hands trailing up the back of Mahvir's neck so that his finger's could tangle in the Elf's hair. 

"Yes." 

"How much?" 

"More than words can say, Vehnan." 

A mischievous look flickered into the eyes of the Tevinter Ambassador before Mahvir was pushed back against the mattress. He fell against it with a soft gasp, as his touch wandered downwards to grip at Dorian's hips. 

"Then you'll have to tell me without words." His lover mused before capturing him a kiss once more. Dorian leaned over him with his full weight, keeping himself upright by straddling Mahvir's thighs. His tongue slipped past Mahvir's lips and a soft moan was coached from the elf before he could stop it. The noise was enough to drive the mage into overdrive as he untangled his hands from hair. Dragging them down his husband's chest he sought to remove his shirt. 

Until Mahvir's enticing responses broke off into something more disgruntled. 

The Inquisitor's eyes opened and he pulled his head away to break the kiss. "Dorian," he huffed as he tried to catch his breath. "Stop, stop..." 

He felt it beneath his skin. The spiking of magic which was fighting to kill him even in the most private of moments. He even had to draw his left hand away from Dorian's waist so that the mage couldn't feel the sudden pulsing of the mark. 

Dorian furrowed his brows and halted his actions. Instead turning his hands upwards, cupping Mahvir's face between his palms. "What's wrong? I didn't hurt you did I?" Perhaps there was a fresh wound or bruise he had unknowingly brushed against. 

Mahvir had to reassure him. "No... No you were wonderful as always. I'm just not feeling well." 

For a moment he didn't think his Husband was convinced. Dorian did know him better than anyone. That included his tells when he was lying. 

"Is that why you left the party early?" 

"Yes... I'm sorry... I didn't want to worry you." 

"You don't have to apologize for caring Amatus, is there anything I can do to help?"  
He sounded so sincere and gentle in that moment. His voice lowered to a delicate whisper. 

It took plenty of self control for Mahvir to recollect his thoughts. 

"Not this time Vehnan," he answered honestly and it was his resolve alone which kept his voice from shaking. "Can you just... Can you just hold me?" 

The request was simple and one Dorian was always happy to fulfill. He gave a slow nod and moved to lay on the mattress beside Mahvir, wrapping the other man up in his embrace. He didn't hesitate to leave a final kiss against his lover's forehead, before Mahvir practically curled in on himself. Hiding his face against the crook of Dorian's neck. 

It was like this that they lapsed into a silence for the night. 

Mahvir pressed the anchor against his own chest. Holding his hand in the form of a tight fist. He waited quietly for the pain to wash over him as he knew it would subside gradually before spiking again. It was just part of his new constant. He felt fingertips glide along the path of spine as minutes turned into hours. 

Eventually it grew dark outside and the flames within the fireplace extinguished themselves. Dorian followed suite falling victim to heavy eyelids and a tired mind. 

The Inquisitor did not sleep as the anchor continued to prey upon his already weary body. 

He needed to tell Dorian. 

He needed to have a more honest conversation with him about this...  
He had to tell him that he was dying, but if he couldn't be honest with himself how could he ever be honest with the man he loved? 

The reality was that he couldn't be. 

In the morning he would find a suitable way to say goodbye. 

For now, he just wanted to stay in Dorian's arms.


End file.
